The need
by TheGentleOne
Summary: Draco had needs. He's acting on one


Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me…

A/N: New story!

Draco Malfoy had needs. Many, many of them. He had satisfied all but one and that…infuriating need was unknown to him. He didn't understand it—well, he didn't know what it was. All he knew was that it was the nagging at his gut.

He studied the man above him, panting in exhilaration. He watched beads of sweat slide down the man's cheek, feeling a pressure in his chest. He ached to press his hand against it in an attempt to soothe the pressure but the movement would distract the man above him and Draco wanted the moment to last.

The man smirked slightly and Draco suppressed a shiver at the expression. Draco watched silently as the boy reached down and he gasped. It was impossible! What was he thinking—Draco moaned as the man drew his hand back, fists clenched as If he wanted to keep whatever he was holding a secret from the world.

The man yelled in triumph as he held the struggling stitch up and Draco slumped in relief. He had thought that Harry would not be able to grab the stitch from that position but the Golden Boy proved him wrong—again. Draco allowed himself a few moments of eye shut before he submerged himself into the raving crowd. He remembered the way the broom looked underneath the Boy-Who-Lived hands. The unknown need came back and Draco groaned. He dove into the screaming crowds in another attempt to shut out the need.

What use was it if he didn't know what it was? How was he supposed to satisfy the need? Muttering under his breath, he elbowed people away and made a beeline for the exit. He didn't mind the fact that he had to _allow _dirty, crazed people molest his robes; it was simply one of the many things one have to endure when attending the Magpies vs. Cudley Cannon games. The crazed, rabid fans were Potter's, so Draco didn't mind giving them a few extra jabs, or the strength behind it.

Potter was the seeker for the Magpies and they have been winning almost every match vs. the Cudley Cannons. Draco considered his attending every match a justified indulgent. After all, he loved Quidditch and it was amusing to watch Potter's team beat Weasley's.

Finally, he reached the exit and he pushed it wide open. He stumbled through and landed in a pair of muscular arms. He blinked rapidly, unsure of his next step. One of the fantastically muscular arms reached behind him and pushed the door closed gently. Draco blinked again and looked up.

Stormy eyes met emerald green. Harry Potter stood before him, grinning sheepishly, still holding the platinum blond up. Draco gaped at Harry, uncaring of what his parents will say if they saw the expression on their only heir's face.

"Hullo, Malfoy." The soft, warm voice snapped Draco out of his reverie. He yanked his arm from the raven-hair's grasp and walked away sophisticatedly, waiting for his racing heart to calm down.

The need rose again, as he heard Harr—_Potter _speed up after him. The need grew bigger and bigger, making his eyes sting and his chest ache. The need…the need…the need was speed! His eyes widened in understanding. Ever since the war had ended, he had been taking everything in carefully, cautiously. Perfection meant taking things slow, and Draco had applied that to his life unknowingly.

He let the fact that his parents were dead sink in ever so slowly because he did not believe it. He sold his father's most prized possessions slowly because he did not want to get rid of the things left of his father. He looked for a job slowly because he believed that his parents would be back soon; they loved him too much to leave him alone.

He picked up his pace slowly, fighting back the tears.

He let his hatred towards the Dark Lord disappear slowly because he believed that the Dark Lord would come back soon and Potter would have to save him—the world again. He let his hatred for Potter slowly turn to love because he knew that the Golden boy will never love him back.

Draco began to run, and let the tears stream down his face. He delighted in the feeling, as he had always cried slowly, one drop by one drop because he believed—

He let out a shaky breath as the arms that had held him when he stumbled surround him again. He laughed in delight and turned in those marvelous arms. He gazed into puzzled emerald eyes. "The need was speed," Draco murmured huskily and took a deep breath for courage. He was sick of moving slowly. It was time for speed, damn the consequences.

He covered the ex-Gryffindor's mouth with his own and moaned at the feeling. He would remember this moment forever. He drew back and smiled brightly at the seeker. He ignored the film of water over his eyes as he let go of the arms and turned to run to the apparition point.

The arms yanked him back and Draco found his mouth plundered. Just as he was about to put himself into the kiss, the man he loved pulled back and Draco whimpered at the loss of contact.

"My need is you." Harry murmured lovingly before drawing the ex-Slytherin in for another kiss.


End file.
